


Fauxbury: Crowley's House

by RavenTheJoker



Series: Edward Fauxbury [1]
Category: Fauxbury, Original Work
Genre: Detective, Mystery, Occult
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2017-04-29
Packaged: 2018-10-25 04:51:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10757070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenTheJoker/pseuds/RavenTheJoker
Summary: Another chapter from the adventures of Edward Fauxbury, a self-proclaimed hunter and researcher of the occult. This time he is asked to look into the case of a mysterious house of a well-known witch, Alistair Crowley.





	Fauxbury: Crowley's House

**Author's Note:**

> All critique very much welcome. Hope you enjoy the work <3

Strangely, I have almost never been asked why I chose this line of work. Anything occult is taboo in the so-called decent public, which makes it ever so stranger that I have not been asked even by those excited by discussion of the taboo. Truth is, I have had my share of unusual experiences with ghosts and witches and warlocks. Unforuntately, I am not one to fully indulge in such lifestyle. Thus, I have chosen this job of a so-called occult hunter in dire search for anything paranormal. More often than not, though, my hopes fall flat, and the presumed unnatural activity can be easily explained. Yet it is still worth to continue for the rare gems, the occassions of true occult nature, often bloodchilling, so exciting… This case is one of those cases.

There was never really a client in this case. A friend of mine and an officer of the Scotland Yard, Timmothy Hopkins, approached me with the issue one Friday evening.  
“My mum’s been writin’ me letters, you know, she’s got troubles with sleeping ‘n’ all,” he said. While not the most eloquent of officers, he was undoubtedly a skilled one.  
“Says it’s been like that ever since her neighbour’s died, some bloke called Crowley. It’s his house, she says. Weird noises coming from it. Doesn’t feel right at all. Says she’s scared to even go outside b’cause of it. So I was thinkin’, you know, since you work with the occult ‘n’ all, I’d tell you ‘bout it, put some peace on mum’s mind.”

I agreed to take the case, and for more than one reason. Apart from lending a helping hand to a friend and a dire need of a time away from the city, I knew the name Crowley as one of the leading figures in research of the occult and the paranormal. Naturally, my interest has been piqued.  
Timmothy and I departed the very next day. It was a day-round trip to Warwickshire - or, to be more specific, to the town of Warwick - where Mrs. Hopkins mother lived. It was a calm town, even in the early days of summer. The carriage Timmothy had paid for stopped right in front of the old lady’s house on a Sunday evening. Slowly I approached the door and knocked. My eyes drifted towards the neighbouring house, a structure much shabbier in comparison to the others on the street. I could feel my heart beat faster with excitement.  
“Timmy, dear!” I turned upon hearing the voice.  
In front of me stood a typical image of a grandmother, complete with knitting needles in one hand and the smell of pie eminating from behind. She was just giving her son a warm, motherly kiss on the cheek when she saw me.  
“Oh, dear, and you must be Tim’s friend.”  
“Edward Fauxbury, at your service,” I introduced myself, taking my hat off.  
“Come on in, dear, the tea should be just about ready.”  
Hastily she shuffled away. Timmothy entered after her and I after him, closing the door behind me. I entered the lounge just as she was pouring strong-smelling tea into three cups.  
“Timmothy told about your troubles. The house of your dead neighbour-”  
“They assume him dead, at least.”  
I sat down.  
“Assume?”  
“Well, noone has seen him for almost over two fortnights now. I am not one to think the worst, usually,” she leaned in closer to me, “but there was never anything right with that fella, let me tell you. Nothing holy about him or that house, I tell you.”  
I nodded. “Could you tell me more about this man, Crowley?”  
“Oh, I didn’t know him, but word went around. Some say the poor soul dabbled in witchcraft. Our Lord has no mercy for those serving the Devil.”  
I nodded, though inside I only sadly smiled. It was a common misconception that all things occult were the Devil’s work, after all.  
Instead of me, Timmothy spoke: “Don’t worry, mum, Ed here’s an expert on fightin’ the occult,” he said, slowly sipping away at his tea.  
“Well, I would not call myself an expert-”  
“He’s damn good, still. He’ll get to the core of it, I know.”  
I sipped from my tea, trying to ignore the bitterness. Shamefuly enough, I am a man of sweeter tastes.  
“So, what about the house?” I asked. “There has been strange activity recently, or so have I been told.”  
The old lady shuddered. “It must be cursed, I tell you. Strange shrieks keep coming from it. And since the poor soul disappeared, the sky on this street is nothing but absolutely clouded. The man’s ghost still haunts there, I tell you. And if not his ghost, then something much worse.”  
She sighed and poured me another cup of tea.  
“If only I had my poor old Ambrose, may he rest in peace, I wouldn’t be so scared…”  
I thanked for the tea and departed to the guest room for the night to rest and prepare. Timmothy and I were to go inspect the house the very next morning.

The guest room, I am unsure if it was in great fortune or misfortune, was closest to the cursed house. Through its window I could see the building clearly. The house was in rather a poor condition. The paint had already started falling off years ago, the windows were all dirty, the lawn was on its way to becoming a small jungle. It was as if the house had been abandoned for decades, not just a month.  
In the dead of the night, I started to prepare. From out of my suitcase I took several talismans. While I was not the most experienced in magic, I could muster minor protective charms. Still, most of my talismans were gifts from friends or past clients. Other than that, the preparation was mostly mental and spiritual. For what my talismans could not protect us from, I had Timmothy at my side, and a pistol of my own. A measure I am not always proud of, but a necessary one.  
That night I could barely close my eyes. I simply stood at the room’s window, lit a pipe, and stared at the opposing house. My heart still beat fast with excitement, but there was something else. The iron hand of worry gripped my stomach. Despite my previous experiences with the paranormal, this house made me feel distressed like nothing before.  
I stood there and simply watched for hours. My senses were at their peak, wary of anything strange I might notice. Soon, two figures entered my line of sight. Strangely, the skies were clear that night, and in the light of the moon I could make out who they were - a couple of teenage deliquents. I watched with interest as they shoved away leaves of a small bush, revealing a window with no glass, probably leading straight into the basement. In a flash, they disappeared inside. I held my breath, waiting. An hour must have passed, with no trace of the two before tiredness had finaly set in. Slowly I retreated into the bed. As I was falling asleep, my ears were filled with it. A scream so loud and drenched in pain, I was sure my heart skipped at least three beats.

The next morning I sat at the kitchen table with plate of full breakfast in front of me. It must have been the first time in years I had a full breakfast, yet I was unable to eat properly. I managed to down only a measly egg before exclaiming:  
“Pardon me, Mrs. Hopkins, but I am afraid I- the matter will not wait.”  
I stood up from the table and motioned to Timmothy to follow me.

We stood at the gate of the house. My palms were slick with sweat. Subconciously I touched the gun hidden inside my coat.  
“Right…” I exhaled, “Let’s… let us proceed.”  
I walked right to the front door - but before I could reach it, my legs turned almost on their own, leading me to the glassless window to the basement. I brushed away the bush. The room behind the window was pitch-dark. My eyes wandered to Timmothy’s face. The fact there was fear in eyes as well wasn’t exactly comforting, even if understandable. I nodded. He lit two lanterns and gave me one, then crawled through the window into the room. I handed him one of the lanterns.  
“All’s clear,” I heard him say.  
Then I crawled in after him.

The room we stood in was small and empty, save for the a few cobwebs in the corners. I looked at my companion’s pale face and once again nodded.  
We made our way up the stairs. Our lanterns seemed nearly useless, darkness encompassing nearly everything. We reached the basement door. I put my ear against it. Nothing. Slowly, I opened it…  
...only to see that we no longer needed lanterns. The doors led straight to the main hall of the house. The windows were covered in soot, letting no light inside, though that was barely needed. The room was lit by many candles, all glowing dimly yet revealing much of the room through their sheer quantity. I walked into the room, Timmothy following closely behind.  
Just like the basement, the room was empty. No furniture, no paintings on the walls, only rows and rows of candles in tall candelabras near the walls. I walked towards the front door. Locked. Right away I cussed at myself for not trying the door earlier, though there was certain relief that such act would have been futile no matter what.  
“‘S a wonder the place hadn’t burned down yet…” I heard Timmothy say.  
“Truly… Well, we should carry on ex-”  
My words were cut short by an unmistakable sound - sounds of quick steps on the floor above us. I nodded at Timmothy, gesturing for silence with my hand. Trying to produce as little sound as possible we approached the stairs, ascending them while pressed as much against the wall as we were able. One set of stairs, then another… Once again we stepped into nearly complete darkness. There were still candles, yet spread throughout a rather long hallway, several feet separating each candle. Body still pushed against the wall, I went first. Near the first door, I stopped. Hushed voices came from inside. I extended my left hand, three fingers erect. Two… One…  
The door shot open. Before I could react, something hit me. I fell to the floor. My gun flew out of my hand. Something gripped my wrists. All I could see was faint whiteness. Screams filled my ears.  
“IRE IN GEHENNAM! IRE IN GEHENNAM!”  
A cold, rough voice of near metal qualities cut into our ears.  
The sound of a cocked pistol brought me from the shock. The screams stopped as well.  
“Move, witch,” I heard Timmothy growl.  
Something wet fell onto my face. I blinked.

On top of me was a girl. Possibly half my age, even in the darkness visibly pale with dark hair. Through gritted teeth sharp breaths escaped her, and her eyes were full of tears that now streamed down onto my face.  
“I said move!” Timmothy shouted.  
The girl growled, screamed, and launched herself towards Timmothy. As she let go of my wrists, I quickly wrapped my arms around her legs, resulting in her just falling to the floor while screaming her curses.  
“Calm, girl, calm!” I half-shouted at her. “We are not just some demons you can send back!”  
Timmothy kicked my gun back to me. I grabbed it and stood up, gun aimed at the attacker as Timmothy handcuffed her. I looked into the room - and aimed at the figure standing in the doors.  
It was another girl. Her skin was much darker; a gypsy, I presumed. Her head was full of flame, the red and the orange just multiplied by the light of a candle.  
“Et abiit, mortale.”  
Her voice was not like the other girl’s. Where the other was cold, this voice was warm. It was warm, then hot, then almost seething. It wrapped around my neck and I felt an uncomfortable chill on my chest. I quickly realized what was happening. Luckily her spell was simple enough to be stopped by one of my charms.  
I cursed and cocked my pistol. While the girl still stayed weary, her face softened as she realized her spell was stopped.  
“Nor are we mere mortals,” I said, “Fingers are faster than spells, I assure you. We are all civilized adults here.”  
“‘S nothin’ civilized ‘bout witches,” Timmothy growled. For all his religious tendencies, I started to regret my choice of him as a companion during this case.  
“Nothing civilized about fucking coppers, either,” the black haired girl muttered.  
“Watch your tongue, witch!”  
“Fucking make me, copper!”  
“Stop it!” I shouted.  
I motioned to Timmothy. We both lowered our weapons. The red haired girl spoke, softly.  
“Have you come to search for uncle Alistair?” she asked.  
“Yes,” I replied.  
Without a word, the girl moved, almost floating. She came to the other, helping her stand up. Only then I noticed - both of them were nearly naked, covered only by white cloths. In shame, I averted my eyes.  
“It would be best if both of you dressed. Then we can talk about Crowley. Uncuff her, Timmothy.”  
“But Ed-”  
“ _Uncuff_ her, I said!”  
“Aye…”

We waited outside the room. Despite the lack of proper lighting, I could make out Timmothy’s worried - if not angered - expression.  
“Witches, a gypsy one at that. There’s nothin’ good waitin’ for us ‘ere, Ed.”  
Now more than ever did I regret Timmothy’s presence. Of course, I knew, his help with the case was inevitable.  
“They are young, Timmothy. They will not harm us. If understanding will not come, I ask only you trust me.”  
He looked like he wanted to add something before a creak of doors, like blessing from the skies, interrupted him. The two girls came out of the room. Their wore simple, black dresses, though their plainness seemed to only add to their beauty. As they walked past the light of the candles, I saw faint threads sewn into the black fabric. Obitus’ glimmered silver, Impes’s shined with gold. The same colours laced their necklines and cuffs. They were also adorned with feathers and talismans.  
“Ah! Very well. We should move somewhere more lit-” I turned to the staircase - only to find that it was no longer there. Quickly, I turned back. “Or, well, let us just begin with introductions. My name is Edward Fauxbury, I am a hunter of the paranormal and researcher of the occult. This gentleman here is Timmothy Hopkins of Scotland Yard. And you would be…?”  
“Impes,” the red haired girl spoke.  
“Obitus,” the black haired girl muttered.  
I could only assume these were their chosen names and they were not simply cursing us with Fire and Death. No mentioning the credibility of given names, though it was understandable. Names hold power, after all.  
“I ought to appologize for the recent interruption… Yes, we are here to investigate the disappearance of your uncle. Never would we have expected anyone such as yourself to be there.”  
“Alistair is no longer here, so you can just fuck off,” Obitus growled.  
Oh, I would be delighted to, I thought.  
“Unfortunately, such possibilities seem unreachable as of now,” I said.  
With my words, Impes turned her head towards the staircase - once again, to find nothing but wall there. My fears were only confirmed.  
“And it seems you two are in no less of a troubled situation than Timmothy and I. Very well then. I have a feeling we will have to get to the core of the situation ourselves. Down the hall it is,” I turned to Obitus, “Pardon me, would you mind to lead the way along with Timmothy? A safety measure, nothing else.”  
The girls looked at each other, trying their best to hide the way or the sheer fact they clung to each other. At last, Impes nodded. Obitus joined Timmothy, and the four of us moved to explore the hallway.

Walking along with Impes, there was more than enough time and privacy for us to talk. To my surprise, it was her who initiated the conversation.  
“A protective charm, you’re not just one of the mere occult researchers, are you?”  
“I dabble. Your uncle was a researcher of the occult, no?”  
A slight chuckle sounded from her way. “He was much more than that. He wasn’t really my uncle. He was our teacher, for a long time. Then…” her voice faded.  
“Then he disappeared,” I finished for her.  
“Yes. We didn’t dare come closer to the house. Not until now.”  
This time it was me who chuckled. What luck. “It must have been fate that put us togther.  
No response came from her side.  
“Do not mind my companion. Not all minds are open to all sides of life.”  
“We know,” she replied, “We know all too well.” Her gaze turned downwards, then to me. “We should speak. In private, I mean. Somehow, your companion-”  
Before she could finish her sentence, the ground shook. A deep, growling rumble filled our ears. Then, the walls exploded.  
We cowered before the rubble that flew from the sides. Then, we ran. Behind us the wooden walls kept bombarding us with greater and greater force. Wood shot from the ceiling. I ducked just in time for a plank to narrowly miss my head. Impes grabbed my hand. She dragged me forward. I looked up. An open door! I decided not to question it, instead focusing on running. Obitus ran through the door, Impes and I behind her. Timmothy stuttered behind us. He shut the door behind us - though not fast enough. A plank flew throughthe open door and hit Timmothy in the head. I shut the door as he fell and kneeled down to him. He was knocked out cold. I sighed, half in stress, half in relievance.  
“Looks like we’ll have some privacy after all, dear Impes.”

Apart from Timmothy’s unconcious state, none of us were severly injured. A multitude of bruises and scratches, yes, yet we escaped without other issues. Behind the door we ran through was anotehr corridor, just like the one we just escaped - safe for the collapsing walls. We dragged Timmothy to a wall and sat down onto the floor to rest. Though the witches kept their grace, Obitus clung to Impes’s arm for comfort. I started.  
“I suppose the two of you have no idea why this house would ever want to murder us?” I asked.  
Obitus was quick to answer.  
“It’s Alistair,” she said.  
“Crowley?” I rose one brow.  
“We think it’s him,” Impes spoke.  
“I’m pretty fucking sure it is him,” Obitus growled.  
Impes huffed. Then she looked into my eyes.  
“Alistair found us. He taught us. Took care of us. As best as he could, anyways.”  
“Could’ve been fucking better…”  
“He never really told us much about his research. Still, he said we’re very important for it. That I’m important for it…” She laughed a rather bitter laugh. “I found a book one day. His research. Transcending the mortal body. Human sacrifice…”  
Even in the dim light of the candles did I see Obitus cling to her partner even more, if that was at all possible.  
“And so we fled. Soon after, we heard the first screech.”  
I swallowed.  
“And even then, you came back. Why?” I asked.  
“To put an end to the fucker,” Obitus hissed, “There’s no point in running. I’m sure you know that fact yourself.” I said nothing to deny her. From the look on the other witch’s face, though, I was not so sure of everything.  
“We’d use your help.”  
I nodded. Before I could continue, a grunt came from besides me. I turned to see Timmothy slowly sitting up.  
“Ah, just in time, I would say. I have a feeling we do not have to search too hard for the source of our woes now. If anything, the recent incident drew us closer to the wanted direction. Let us carry on, then!” With a surprisingly well-feigned cheer, I helped Timmothy up and marched forward.

It seems appropriate for the story now to continue with even more trappings and encounters with death before we reach our goal. Somehow, I would even welcome such events. Yet, in truth, our goal wasn’t far away from us. Very soon after we started walking, a familiar sound froze us in place. I shuddered at the shriek.  
“It is night already, I see…” I wondered how long we have been stuck in this house now. I turned to Impes. “Any idea where the source might be?”  
Her eyes were stuck staring in front of her.  
“Just follow the scream, dear Fauxbury.”  
Again we heard the shriek. I had to agree there was some logic to her thinking.

Then we followed the shrieks. Though most of the way we simply walked down a corridor, we did open several doors, once again leading to the same-looking corridors. With every shriek, I could not help but feel that Impes grew more and more restless.  
The last time the shriek chilled our blood, it did so with impeccable cruelty. It was closer than ever before. In fact, we were certain the shriek came from a door just to our right.  
I broke the sudden silence with a cough. Following that came more silence. What broke that was the creaking sound of Impes opening the door. We held our breaths as slight breeze came through the widening crack.  
Then we were all pulled into the room.  
Suffice to say, whatever was inside wasted no time or energy on subtlety. The door shut harshly behind us as we pulled ourselves up from the floor. At last, this room was not empty.  
To our right were tall bookcases, to our left tables and chairs, or rather chairs thrown randomly onto half-broken tables. Around the walls was a setup of candles just like the on in the main hall. The ceiling was covered in roots. I was just in the process of marvelling about said roots when I heard Timmothy curse. I sharply turned just in time for my heart to stop.  
In the middle of a room was a decomposing corpse. Worse yet, the corpse was standing up. Timmothy fired two bullets into it, fruitlessly. Then I saw the corpse wasn’t really standing up, simply rising, supported by yet more roots.  
A cold, sharp voice filled my head.  
‘ _Child…_ ’  
“Ah…” I exhaled as I fell to my knees. My head felt heavy and light at the same time, the room spinning around. I felt hands around my body as Obitus caught me before I fully fell to the floor. She muttered something and my vision normalized. I heard a thud nearby and turned to look that way. Once again, Timmothy was on the ground, his mind unable to withstand the power. Obitus came to him, too, muttered the same words. He did not wake up, though colour started to return to his cheeks.  
‘ _Come forth, child._ ’  
I looked at the corpse. Its arms were spread wide. Impes stood before it. As if the deceased body was about to give her a hug.  
‘ _With me, you shall learn._ ’  
Obitus started slowly approaching Impes. My legs still felt far to weak for me to walk.  
“Impes…”  
Impes did not respond. She only stared at the corpse with infatuation and excitement the likes of which I have not seen before.  
I took a deep breath. On all fours, I started crawling forward.  
“The power is inviting, isn’t it?” I spoke slowly, “It draws you in…”  
‘ _Come… forth…_ ’  
“Of course, there was another reason you decided to come back…”  
Very slowly, the girl walked towards the corpse.  
“Impes!”  
“Damned warlock knew you would want to escape…”  
“ELIZABETH!” Obitus screamed.  
Impes blinked. Ever so slightly, her head turned to her partner.  
The corpse’s jaw dislocked. It’s mouth open, I covered my ears before the terrible shriek. Its arm shot forward. Its fingers caught Impes’s arm. Another shriek - this time from Impes. The corpse started sinking, dragging her with it. Obitus screamed and grabbed the other girl’s arm, trying to pull her away.  
“LET HER GO, FUCKER!”  
My hands wrapped around a candelabra. I tried to move it. It fell with a loud thud.  
Obitus’ eyes shot towards me. She let go of Impes and shot towards a candelabra. Impes was on the groud now. Mouth open in a soundless scream. To no avail she kicked the corpse holding her arm.  
“IRE IN GEHENNAM, CULUS!”  
Obitus yelled out. Like a flash of fire and rage, she darted towards the corpse, candelabra in hands. She swung. Surprisingly, the candles stayed in their holders. She smashed them into the corpses shoulder. Another shriek filled our ears. I nearly fainted as I crawled back to the door.  
The corpse’s hand broke off. Obitus threw the candelabra away and helped Impes stand up.  
“RUN!” she yelled.  
There was no need to say it twice. I looked at Timmothy’s motionless body. There was little time. I slapped him once, then again. He was shot awake fast. I helped him stand up, and we ran out of the room.  
‘ _Come… FORTH!_ ’  
And after us, the house was collapsing. I could see the room was in flames, but the flames were immediately snuffed out by the collapsing roof. As we darted down the hall, wood and piping crashed behind us.  
The house seemed to be back to normal. At the end of the corridor, the staircase was now back in its place. We ran down the stairs.  
“QUICK, TO THE BASEMENT!” Obitus yelled out.  
“NO TIME!” I responded.  
I grabbed another candelabra and ran to front of the house. The upper floor started collapsing behind us. Silently I thanked all architects for their love of large windows as I broke the soot-covered glass. The four of us quickly ran outside into the night. As we gasped for air, the house behind us started crumbling and falling.  
Lantern in hand, a familiar figure approached us.  
“Tim! Mr. Fauxbury! Thank the Lord! I was worried to death about you!”  
I forced myself to calm down.  
“All is well, Mrs. Hopkins, all is well…”  
“You’ve been gone all day!” she exclaimed, “And who are these young ladies?”  
I looked at the two witches. Impes sat on the ground, silent. Obitus helped her stand up. I sighed.  
“No worries, Mrs. Hopkins, it is something I will take care of myself. I suppose we can call the problem with the house solved.”  
“House? What house, dear?”  
Surprised, I turned. Truly - on the place where the cursed house once stood was now only empty lawn.

For the rest of the night, neither witch spoke. I was unsure whether Timmothy had also forgotten about the incident or if he simply dreaded to talk of it, yet I did not mind either possibility. He stayed behind, to look after his mother for another day. The very next morning the witches and I departed once again, now back to London. They were both were orphaned. I did not question this claim. Coming to London was, after all, their own decision.

Impes - now introduced as Elizabeth - recovered soon after we arrived in London.  
I allowed her and Obitus - now introduced as Anabelle - to stay with me at my office apratment until I contact an aquaintance of mine, Ms. Alma LeFay, to find the girls an accomodation. Having had only one room at the time, I offered them to use it themselves while they stayed over.  
We did not speak much of the incident anymore. From what I could gather, Impes was turning out to be a strong witch. Alma would no doubt find them a good teacher - especially one that would not want to sacrifice them for higher powers.  
“You should be more careful with your cases, Mr. Fauxbury,” Impes told me the day they departed. “Who knows what would have become of you without us.”  
I smiled.  
“If all else fails, I would be more than happy to welcome you as companions. If such things would be ever so desireable to you, of course.”  
The witches smiled, though they said nothing. Obitus reached to her dress and removed an ornate feather. She gave it to me. Even without words, the gesture was strong.  
I thanked them and watched as they left for a better future.

**Author's Note:**

> The latin is bad, I know, I used Google Translate. There may be more stories featuring the witches in the future (quite high possibility).
> 
> In memoriam https://youtu.be/cKUZPdFf-zg


End file.
